Still Catching Our Collective Breath

I haven’t been my usual chatterbox self here on the blog because there hasn’t been much to report. Except! For big news! (Oh how easily I forget.) My knee is finally better!

I found a chiropractor willing to do a modified set of jerks; he was more conservative than the guy in Wisconsin about the possibility of tearing my ACL again, but his little pushes and pulls helped enough that I’m walking. And most gleefully, I see my beloved physical therapist on Monday, who took such great care of me after surgery last year.

Here’s a shot from me enjoying the last days of the golf cart rental, which now I do not need because, did I mention this? My knee is better! Instead of golf carting back and forth between the laundry and showers and front office, I’m back to riding my bike.

And (drumroll on repeat) using the little fitness room here. I booked an hour with a neighbor who’s a trainer, and she showed me how to use the fancy machines and weights and gave me a routine to start with my upper body. (Lower body I’ll leave to my PT.) Finally, Daily Workout Routine has shifted from “Here I Come” to “I Am In You.”

I’m also relieved to be finished with the lab work the endocrinologist down here (yes, I’m back to seeing the same one) ordered for me to repeat. Peeing in a hat for 24 hours, chewing on a wad of gauze for two minutes, forking over eight vials of blood. Good grief. I do still have an ultrasound to undergo, but that does not involve giving up any bodily fluids, so easy peasy.

Which is all to say: we’re still catching up here. Me getting back on my feet, literally, getting all those labs done, Tracy starting to go birding each morning. We still have not set up the tent, which means Tracy can’t unload stuff from the back of the truck (it all goes in the tent), which means he can’t reach his tools, and I can’t shift some of the crap from inside the trailer into the truck.

One reason we’re delayed with setting up the tent—and setting in motion our whole winter plan of repairs and cleaning—is the weather. We’ve had 45 mph kinda steady wind gusts, which is no record here by any means, but we don’t want to wrestle with the tent in that.

Banjo says the wind makes it easier for her to keep her ears on alert.

Another reason for delay are the blasted fire ants. Tracy’s been treating the ground for them, but the rain has foiled that to some extent. We try to keep Banjo off the grass because of them, but she tries to trick us into letting her on.

Like, if she rolls off her bed onto the grass, that doesn’t count, right? She truly thinks she’s smarter than us.

When the wind or the rain keeps us in, we are a sore disappointment to her. Sorry, Banjo. We’ll have the tent up soon, and then we’ll let you lounge in there no matter the weather or ant situation.

The next question on my mind lately has been socializing here, as in: Do I go to any trouble to do this?

I rode my bike to the happy hour yesterday afternoon, and there were maybe three people standing around, with an older guy cranking out standard classic rock from a stereo and the new activities director spinning a frozen margarita machine. I think I saw a sign-up sheet for bingo.

There are so many grumpy responses I had when I stepped away from this scene, but this morning I’m kicking myself for not staying. Yes, people here are old. I’m old, too. Yes, they’re mostly conservative-leaning midwesterners who voted in a way that I cannot forgive. I don’t have to talk politics with anyone. Yes, bingo is an unfathomably boring game with zero strategy. But it’s a way to get to know people. Yes, I can’t stand pre-mixed, overly sweet, low-alcohol, brain-freeze margaritas. But I can bring my own beverage. I would never have met all the people from my previous post if I’d stayed inside the trailer, so I might as well shush the pompous, judgmental part of my brain and go stand there with a drink in my hand and Foghat blaring at me and ask people where they’re from, right?